Servants of Man
by JJ Gestapo
Summary: Something queer is going on in his office, and be sure that Lieutenant Colonel Desk Jockey will get to the bottom of it -or were the consequences best left unsaid? T for possible language. Does ArcherxPaperwork count?
1. The First Sign

Slight AU(?) or rather just edited the time line to suit my fancy. After reading Incendiary Relations by GreyLiliy, I was mused to write this comical story, I guess also inspired by a particular episode of FMA –which I didn't watch until after I popped out my first 3 chapters. Reviews and any constructive criticisms are welcome! 4-23-09

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Order. Discipline. Unity. Power.

The pristine sharp folds of his uniform, the undeniable shimmer of brass and boot shine were testament to his lifestyle. He was a man of control and organization, power reigned in beneath his taught smile, and despite his superior skills in Lieutenant Colonel Office Jockey Frank Archer. Efficient, critical, ambitious and always right on time like a precision instrument that could execute any action given.

That was until fate brought him a great challenge that one day.

Déjà vu.

Archer snapped the folder shut and tucked the pen away in its rightful place before standing up from his desk to take the files next door. Had he known better, he would have questioned why it had been difficult to roll the chair back under the desk, but at the time it was something he could attend to later. A dysfunctional chair was the least of his worries when heading the Intelligence of the military.

"Lieutenant Colonel!" Saluted the sergeant, jumping to his feet and saluting with a click of heels.

"At ease, I just thought I'd return the forms for you asked me to review. Everything looks in order." What a fast worker indeed.

"Thank you, sir!" Unexpectedly, the solider cautiously reached out to his superior and dared to pull something from the lower sleeve of uniform. The death glare he received pounded him into the floor.

"_Excuse me?"_ Archer inquired, his voice threateningly low. No one touched him without a reason, and sure as hell did anyone mock his habits.

"Oh I, I'm s-s-sorry sir! Th-there was just something hanging off there. I didn't think you-" His voice squeaked, dying off to stop himself from making a bigger blunder.

Like a machine, Archer apprehended the soldier's arm by the wrist, bringing it to his face to see what was so god damn important to do such a thing in the first place. His upper lip twitched in very expressive annoyance, his steel glare focused on the small culprit that inflicted deformity upon his blue coat. As if he were disgusted, he took the think strand from the bound hand of the servant, looking it over as if it were an infestive pest and let go of his arm. Not for a single moment did either man relax.

"Good luck with your investigation sergeant." Was all Archer could manage as he prowled out the door, transfixed on this interesting piece of evidence.

He would get to the bottom of this.


	2. The Note

Sorry for any typos, and if the symbol doesn't appear, then no worries. Hopefully I'll get more down so can post it. Enjoy! 4-23-09

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Granted it was pouring outside, but he didn't expect it to be as destructive as _this_. One secretary was briskly mopping up the floor of his office, the bucket adjacent from her filled with muddy grey water. Since when did they have such a dirt problem in here? Must be all the people who don't know how to kick out their boots before enter the facility, he thought, shrugging his coat of with care not to get his uniform wet and bringing it to the rack by the door.

"My apologies for bringing in more, you can call in someone if this is going to be a problem." It hadn't occurred to him why his secretary Scieszka was swabbing the floor. Cleaning faculty often made several round on these kinds of days to keep the tiles and marble from becoming too slick and work hazards. Maybe she too had a neatness disorder.

"Oh no, no it's fine! Just trying to keep the place tidy!" Well at least someone else was enthusiastic about it.

"As long as it doesn't interfere with your work-" his sentence broke off as he noticed a new scuff in the kick plate that bordered the floor. It almost looked like someone had gone out of their way to dig it in, then again, clumsy women and their heels. Another mental reminder of things that had to be fixed around the office. With a snap from his fingers he creased his collar back into place; now it was time for another day in the hole.

It was just his luck that on one of the shittiest says outside, and the day he _actually _wanted to go home early, that a nice big juicy steak of a report in needed of tender care would fall directly into his lap, literally.

_ Frank,_

_ Need this file replaced –it was apparently dropped outside and the papers need to restored and reorganized. Also, I need it on my desk by the end of the month. Thanks-_

_ XO_

From Mustang no doubt –if addressing him by his first name wasn't enough, as if in cruel joke the little attachment was even signed with a smiley next to misplaced x's and o's. Was that a little heart? In some sort of anger he ripped the scrap from under the paperclip to examine it closer. The though made him shiver. Of course someone from Mustang's group would be likely to drop a whole file in some mud puddle, and one of the biggest ones on top of that.

"A whole month?" Archer mused, giving a distasteful finger-through the sticky, runny papers. It would take a while, but not a whole month. Getting the fresh mud stains out of his uniform would require more time and effort than one measly folder. If there was one thing he could say, he was a master of his little office domain, there was no challenge he couldn't take on and complete with that extra touch of being promptly done.

There was a slight dampness in the room, not overbearing but enough to instill some discomfort, and he was exhausted. Maybe he would start this tomorrow, since he did seem to have excess time for the task, the rain hadn't let up and it was getting darker out. After tidying up his desk and make sure everything was in order, he stood up, pushing newly broken wheeled chair to his desk. He still had to get that taken care of before the wheel snapped off. 'Mental note to self –chair repair.'


	3. Ambush

I only pray I can continue this with the same flare I had that one night. I don't even know how this will exactly go through, but it will. The show must go on! I wish I knew how to make epic chapters but short and sweet is good too. Enjoy and thank you very much for the reviews!

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The following day was no better. The rain was still coming down but not as hard as before, and it made for a calm, almost peaceful day in the office for him. Even after all that effort of bringing the file home, he didn't even bother to open it since he was at his desk. Mentally, he knew that it was ill of his character to ignore something so quickly, but in his defense he argued that it was a last minute assignment that had been handed to him at the end of his shift. Not like he had worked over time before _but_……

'*Sigh* it was out of sheer laziness.' He finished his thought, a bit surprised he could actually tag the word lazy and his name together so easily and willingly. God, what was he thinking?! Daring to put himself in league with Roy Mustang like that.

Again the floor was already being mopped. Oddly enough, they were looking rather scratched up and dull under the office light, another minute detail that he had noted a week or so ago –time for some seasonal cleaning and waxing. As he walked over to his desk, he open up the folder that he had received last night, reading the cover page to acquaint himself with the material, as well as the new papers he had to get done today that were already filling his in-box. Lieutenant Havoc brushed by with a cheery, lazy salute, "Mornin' sir."

"Good morning Lt. Havoc." Arches returned, never once looking up to greet his eyes or match his salute as he walked to his desk.

Just why did he sound so chipper?

The next moment Archer was airborne and papers flying in every direction, the whole office falling deathly silent, so silent that you could hear the fine dust from the dirty file hit the ground.

For a moment the great Lieutenant Colonel was stunned, whether it was from the fall or embarrassment unknown even to himself. What he did know was that someone was that the fall had hurt, and someone was going to fess up.

"Sir!" Havoc rushed over, offering a hand to help. With a half snarl Archer swatted his gesture away in frustration, steadying himself on his arms. It appeared someone had found it humorous to leaving a crippled cardboard box in the middle of his path, right in front of his desk, and with his eyes fixed on his work, it made a perfect trap.

"I'm fine." His voice came in a growl as he stood up, brushing off his uniform and slicking back his hair. Taking a nice fall like that face first was one way to start his day. Scieszka was already making her way around the area reassembling the exploded document. Nervously Jean continued on.

"Better watch out if your going to take a tumble like that, you're lucky you didn't split you head open on something." There was no response from the head of Intelligence Investigation as he attempted to regain some dignity and composure. He couldn't help but feel Havoc was there for more than just to say hello. Scieszka popped next to Archer rather cautiously, handing back all the neatly stacked files, who viciously snatched them away with a sharp inhale.

"Sir, your lip." She whispered, quickly backing away to pick up her books again. Havoc had suspiciously evacuated the nearest vicinity of his superior ranked officer.

"Who the hell is responsible for this?!" Barked Archer, turning like a rabid dog on his team –from the corner of his eye he saw Mustang's man creeping to the doorway.

"!" and with a little poof he vanished out the door full speed.

Again, the eerie silence, so quiet you could hear the dragonish blast of fire curl from his nostrils as his eyebrow twitched more than usual. At least his suspicions were right on the mark –_as expected_, he though smugly, commending his own intuitions. Under the auspicious death glare, everyone slinked back to their work, averting their eyes at mach speeds and noses to their work as Archer slowly turned his attention back to the culprit –the damned cardboard box, so battered and unsightly, everything 'stacked' haphazardly that it bulged into a filthy hill. It appeared to have suffered damages similar to the file he received yesterday.

"Scieszka?" Had he ever gotten her name right? "Can you do me a favor and _please_ move _this,_" he needed to only gesture with his blue eyes what he meant but his voice distained like a damsel in distress, "somewhere where I don't have to worry about it?"

"Y,yes, sir!" she sputtered, using all of her might to lift the saturated package to a lesser traveled zone, but close to his desk so he could tend to it later. This was going to be a long day.


End file.
